We here in the English department love to read (or at least have gotten really good at acting as if we do), and despite the hectic schedule that’s part and parcel of college life, it is always a pleasure when presented with free time to read a book of our own choosing. Being assigned a constant stream of literature can take its toll with many of the “classics” we might have otherwise enjoyed have been turned into mandatory assignments; our taste for the subject can be plain worn out after a while. To this end, I think it is fitting to familiarize English majors with some readings a bit off the beaten path, with one foot in other areas of the humanities. Whether you are an English major looking to branch out, another  major looking for an “in” to the English department, or just a curious soul, here are three extra-disciplinary reads that might interest you. 

The dynamic between our past and present selves is often tumultuous and disorienting, further complicating our individual life efforts to discover who we are and who we want to be. Consciously or not, everyone experiences this internal conflict, especially as they begin to move past the early stages of adulthood, and the eventual result is often bittersweet. On his second studio album, Blonde, singer Frank Ocean musically embodies this endeavor by exploring the many dichotomies of youth through a collection of personal vignettes amidst a dream-like, intimate atmosphere. Save for a few sonic highlights, the album’s production ranges from acoustic to ethereal and often feels stripped-back and minimal in comparison to the myriad of garish R&B music released in 2016; however, the scarcity of drums and garish studio effects allows for the nuanced details of Blonde to shine,further drawing the listener’s attention to Ocean’s powerful vocals and emotional songwriting. 

Album opener “Nikes” serves less as an intro and more as a prelude, with its warbling chord progressions providing a backdrop for pitched-up vocals performed as a slow-paced and ironic ode to contemporary hedonism; Ocean weaves through both blissful and macabre aspects of indulgence with slight nods to expensive shoes and jewelry, followed by homages to artists Pimp C and A$AP Yams, both of whom died of drug overdoses. The track’s lyrics are intentionally simple, yet potent. Towards the beginning of the song, the notion that “They looking for a check / Tell 'em it ain't likely” provides a triple entendre that simultaneously equates “check” with money, brand identity, and social validation. “Nikes” also introduces Ocean’s personal experience with imperfect relationships, a theme that often serves as the focal point of Blonde; the following track, “Ivy”, exemplifies this perfectly through soft, meandering guitars accompanying vulnerable and melancholy verses about a difficult breakup from his youth. Emotions clash as Ocean struggles to center himself in the present instead of remaining mired in the painful past: “Ooh, I could hate you now / It's quite alright to hate me now / But we both know that deep down / The feeling still deep down is good.”

Between the comfortable yet lovesick ballads like “Ivy” and “Self Control”, Blonde’s soundscape and subject matter is adventurous while breathtakingly vast. The muffled pulse of drums and sleek guitars on “Skyline To” whisk the listener along a moonlit Interstate 5 before encountering the brightening horizon within an echoing musical flourish as Ocean sings, “In comes the morning, haunting us with the beams / Solstice ain't as far as it used to be / It begins to blur, we get older.” The song’s instrumentation nearly melts to shift with the quick passage of time that Ocean details in its mere three-minute duration; many of the tracks on Blonde feature this chameleonic and fluid change in production that leaves the end of each song sounding nothing like the beginning. This is orchestrated perfectly in the subsequent track, the heart-wrenching fan favorite “Self Control”; the first two minutes create the atmosphere of a cozy bedroom with close, intimate guitars while Ocean relishes the ephemeral intensity of a crumbling love interest. Despite reflecting on past mistakes made in this relationship, steeping the present with a dreadful knowledge of its conclusion, Ocean inevitably looks to the future. Herequests that his unknown lover never forgets him while trying to control desperate, overflowing emotions (hence the song’s title): “Keep a place for me, for me / I'll sleep between y'all, it's nothing.” As the flame between the pair is extinguished, reality seems to fall away when a soaring guitar and gradual strings cause the sonic atmosphere to ascend into the stars, ushered into the firmament by a soulful and heavenly chorus; subtle, distorted R&B samples and scattered vocal clips flash past the listener’s left and right sides as the song rises and the tears stream.

The conflict between Ocean’s desire to remain emotionally close with his ex and his knowledge that they must bid farewell to each other fits the motif of contrasting duality found in every crevice of Blonde; even the record’s feminized title stands in opposition to blond, the masculine spelling of the word on the album’s cover. Despite their vast differences, the album’s contrasting elements are often two parts of the same whole, especially on tracks like the cathartic, organ-led “Solo”; in the minimalist song’s chorus, Ocean proclaims through intricate vocal inflections that “It's hell on Earth and the city's on fire / Inhale, in hell, there's heaven / There's a bull and a matador dueling in the sky / Inhale, in hell, there's heaven.” The album’s thematic streaks of emotional struggle, religion, and hedonism are all present here when Ocean languidly revels in his individuality, inspiring a sustained moment of relative peace. The steady and uplifting energy of this song is matched by the lush “Pink + White”, perhaps the most positively charged record on Blonde; the duality presented in this song exists between the black-and-yellow asphalt and the pink-and-white sky that Ocean describes while diving into the past pleasures of Louisiana summers in the wake of Hurricane Katrina. Yet Ocean’s satisfaction is expressed in a conflicting, ambiguous manner when he sings, “Regard, my dear / It's all downhill from here,” simultaneously alluding to the ease of moving downhill and the decline of a situation–which is revealed in “Self Control” to be one of Frank’s relationships.

“Nights”, the album’s enigmatic centerpiece, adopts a similarly upbeat approach to production that evolves from heavy, chiming guitars and bouncing drums to wavering synths as Ocean boldly enunciates his struggles and desires, acting on them only to shift into another state of reminiscence when confronted with someone painfully familiar. Ocean’s freely indulgent and youthful demeanor in the first half of the track shapes into a softer, sentimental voice, culminating in a falsetto, where he sings, “All my night, you been missin' all my night / Still got some good nights memorized / And the look back's gettin' me right.” As Ocean copes with rough present times by finding comfort in the positive past, memories explored on aforementioned songs, a crescendo of piercing guitars overtakes his vocal presence and grows in volume. The ascension peaks in a stutter that is abruptly cut off right at the 30-minute mark, the album’s halfway point; the song then plunges into a nocturnal environment of pattering drums and an airy piano loop as Ocean ponders the cyclical nature of day, night, and human lifetime. Detailing his career-defining journey from New Orleans to Los Angeles with a sorely nostalgic voice, Ocean sinks into the memories of his youth, unraveling the past’s financial and romantic strife as the drums and pianos fade into nothingness, giving way to the second half of Blonde.

The later tracks in the album are more somber and subtle in their sonic and vocal presentation, but Ocean’s subject matter remains poignant and emotionally evocative. The low drone that begins “White Ferrari” evokes yet another night-time drive during which Frank maintains his physical composure but is emotionally torn apart; the difficulty he faces in expressing his true feelings to a past lover is frustrating, yet their familiarity with one another is the sole lingering quality of their relationship. As the song progresses, the background synths dissolve, leaving only raw acoustic guitars preceding sentimental piano chords as Ocean sings, “I care for you still and I will forever / That was my part of the deal, honest / We got so familiar.” He remains intensely lovestruck on album highlight “Seigfried”, going head to head with inner anxieties and voicing his doubts about the future. Blurry guitars and atmospheric synths create a heavy and forlorn soundscape as Ocean shouts into the void, “I’m not brave!” The presence of individual ego on this track slowly vanishes with the onset of soft strings and bass as Ocean claims he’s “Been living in an idea / An idea from another man's mind.” The cyclical forms of emotional turmoil and depression present in previous tracks like “Nights” return for the second half of the song in a swelling orchestral flourish, as he quietly vocalizes, “This is not my life / It's just a fond farewell to a friend.” Every line of the dissonant and minimal back side of “Seigfried” is dense with anguish, as a spoken-word verse gives way to a heartbreaking falsetto that’s eventually swallowed whole by the surrounding abyss of moody keys as the track comes to a close: “I’d do anything for you (in the dark).”

In the seven years since its release, Blonde has become a contemporary R&B classic that deeply resonates with fans and critics alike; despite its wistful, left-field production and slow pacing, a far cry from the typical commercial approach to making an album, the record has since garnered multiple billions of streams on music platforms and remains on today’s Billboard’s Top 100 Albums chart. The success and widespread reverence of such a quiet and mellow work of art emphasizes the greater significance of the themes of youth, love, and inner conflict expressed by Frank Ocean through a series of personal narratives; even though the listener is plunged into the musings and memories of one man from New Orleans, with defining passions for writing and cars, the fears and notions centering the music are indicative of larger human struggles. Most of us have loved and lost, grappled with self-doubt and confusion, and wished for the simplicity of a youthful past to purify the desolate and dismal present. The fleeting pleasures and intense emotional pitfalls of early adulthood are often what shapes our personalities and perceptions of right and wrong. The pressures and responsibilities of this stage in our lives can bestow an overwhelmingly disorienting quality upon our very existence. For this reason, Blonde is full of contradictions which weave a sublime musical tapestry that, when experienced in totality, depicts the experiences, joys, and sorrows of the American youth; life will never be perfect, but confronting and understanding its difficulties while celebrating our own triumphs and moments of bliss make it worth living.

[9.2 / 10]